


Basement Life

by milkysterek



Series: #SterekBingo2017 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - DC Comics, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Criminal Derek Hale, Drugged Stiles Stilinski, Gotham City - Freeform, M/M, Organized Crime, Sterek Bingo 2017, Undercover, Vigilante Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-31 01:16:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10888791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milkysterek/pseuds/milkysterek
Summary: Rain fell harshly from the thick, black clouds that hung over Gotham City like a permanent bad omen, hammering it’s warning down on the few good people who ventured out this late at night and the many sketchy folks who made their living at this sort of hour. By the devil's hour, it would likely be storming; Stiles was glad he’d brought his waterproofs. He parked his car down one of the many dark and secluded alleys the diamond district had to offer and climbed out into the downpour.ORThe superhero/vigilante AU no one asked for except they did technically ask for because it's on the Sterek bingo list!





	1. The Iceberg Lounge

**Author's Note:**

> For #SterekBingo2017
> 
> Theme - Crossover

Rain fell harshly from the thick, black clouds that hung over Gotham City like a permanent bad omen, hammering it’s warning down on the few good people who ventured out this late at night and the many sketchy folks who made their living at this sort of hour. By the devil's hour, it would likely be storming; Stiles was glad he’d brought his waterproofs. He parked his car down one of the many dark and secluded alleys the diamond district had to offer and climbed out into the downpour.

 

He was out of costume, instead choosing to wear a tailored suit that he kept in the back of his closet for occasions where he had to fit in. His red and black outfit, the one he usually wore at this time of night, was bundled up in a ball, hidden inside the back seats of his car. If anyone managed to break in, he doubted they’d find his costume - not before he dealt with them, anyway. 

The Iceberg Lounge was as grand and as obnoxious as Stiles had thought it would be. Penguin really didn’t spare any expense when it came to his most prized business venture and Stiles found himself rolling his eyes despite his best efforts. Everything was a cool blue and attacked the senses no matter where you looked. Stiles didn’t know how anyone could spend more than ten minutes in this place without developing a headache. Still, business was booming - which was exactly what Stiles was hoping for.

There, in the centre of the room, not even attempting to hide in the shadows, sat Derek Hale - yes,  _ that _ Derek Hale.

  
  


“Stiles!” Stiles whipped his head to the side, immediately on the defensive at the sound of his name being called but instantly felt his muscles relax as he took in the woman before him. “You came.”

Erica was a bombshell, all decked out in leather pants and jacket with a leopard print, velvet corset underneath. She also sported her gang’s signature choker, a tradition that only she seemed to be keeping up now that the  _ Hale Pack  _ \- as the liked to call themselves - had ventured out and left behind their old, cartoonish gimmick.

“For a minute there I thought you’d stood me up,” She pouted, poking out her crimson covered bottom lip.

Stiles looked down, then brought his eyes back up to meet Erica’s, gazing over at her through his lashes in a way he hoped seemed bashful. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” He explained, voice meek.

Erica laughed musically and clapped her hands together once, looking practically overjoyed. “You’re just adorable!” She squealed and snaked one of her arms between Stiles’ own and his side, linking them. “There’s someone you just  _ have _ to meet!”

 

Fifteen minutes later and Stiles still hadn’t gotten anything. He was sat at the table of one of the most feared and respected drug lords in all of Gotham, surrounded by crooks and villains - many of which  _ Red _ had helped put away over the years - and somehow not a single one of them could run their mouths just this once. He  _ knew _ Whittemore was a talker. Just last month the blond haired ‘beta’ had accidentally aided Banshee in locking up half of the upper east side alone. Tonight, however, his lips were decidedly sealed. 

_ It must be Hale _ , Stiles thought, bringing his strangely coloured drink to his lips. It tasted weird, though Stiles wasn’t exactly surprised. Most of the overpriced shit in this joint was odd, to say the least.  _ There’s no way any of them will slip up with their boss at the table. _

“You’re staring,” Derek purred, placing his glass back down on the table and pushing it aside. It was quickly carried away by a shifty looking waitress. “Do you have something to say to me, puppy?”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open into a small ‘o’ shape. He blinked, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat and cleared his throat. “U-um, n-no sir-”

“Oh, Derek,” Erica chastised, saving Stiles’ ass. It didn’t matter that she was one of the most thoroughly twisted people Stiles had ever met; he was buying her something pretty tomorrow. “Don’t bully him. The poor boy probably just got lost in your eyes or something,” The girl grinned wickedly and Stiles decided she wasn’t getting anything pretty after all.

“Or something,” Derek said easily before pushing himself away from the table and coming over to stand directly behind Stiles. All of the hair on the back of his neck stood to attention and his skin almost _glowed_ with heat. He hadn’t been this close to Derek since… “Would you care for this dance?”

Sure that he had been found out, Stiles snapped his head back to look up at the drug lord with startled eyes. “What?”

Derek just smirked, “Would you like to dance with me?”

That… could work. He wasn’t going to get any info out of the pack tonight, that was for sure, but maybe he could get something out of Derek once they were alone. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to make Derek Hale sing… though he wasn’t sure if the tactics he usually used would be welcome amongst high society - even if they  _ were _ all technically criminals.

“Um, of course,” Stiles blushed - because nothing said weak and harmless like blushing in front of a handsome man who was responsible for the death of hundreds at his own hands and possibly thousands at the hands of others. The handsome man part helped significantly. It didn’t matter how many times he stared into the eyes of the alpha, his knees still got weak and his dick still got hard. Well, not right now, though… obviously.

Derek led Stiles out onto the packed dance floor and pulled him flush against his chest. The lights were up, as was the norm, and from this position, Stiles could see every fleck of the blues and greens that made up Derek’s dazzling eyes. They were gorgeous, just like the rest of him and it took everything within Stiles not to give in to his desires and lean forward, tasting Derek’s stubble surrounded lips. He wasn’t sure how he managed to control himself but somehow found it to simply sway with the slow music from the band.

“If you don’t mind me saying, you look delicious tonight, Stiles,” Derek’s voice was like honey, thick and warm as it poured over Stiles, making him shudder. “If you’re not careful, someone might eat you up.”

“I’m not worried,” He replied, trying to appear as unaffected as possible. It wasn’t  _ very _ possible.

“No?” Derek raised both of his eyebrows. Like that he looked almost innocent and it made part of Stiles smile - the other part of him was horrified; if there was one thing Derek Hale was not, it was innocent.

Stiles tilted his chin up and looked over Derek’s shoulder. He was only a little bit offended by Derek’s lack of faith in his abilities to take care of himself - after all, there was no way for Derek to know who he  _ really _ was. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“That’s good to know. A young thing like you needs to know how to defend himself, especially in a place like this. You never know what could happen when you’re surrounded by a bad crowd.”

The pack were back at the table, all crowded around each other and gossiping while their eyes stayed glued directly to Derek’s back. Erica made eye contact with him and winked, smiling wolfishly. If he wasn’t careful, he might find himself caring for that girl.

“How do you know I’m not part of that bad crowd?” Stiles asked, turning his eyes away from Erica and back to Derek. That was a mistake. The light and somewhat lofty expression Derek had been wearing earlier was gone and replaced by something different, something Stiles couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Oh, just a feeling…” He muttered, bright eyes turning dark - and maybe just a little red. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. Not here, at least.”

“The Iceberg Lounge isn’t really my scene,” Stiles admitted and blinked away, starting to feel hot under the collar and just the tiniest bit wobbly. He’d probably let Erica pour far too many drinks down his throat… probably.

“You don’t come here a lot,” Derek said, no hint of a question in his voice as he lightly brushed his lips against the lobe of Stiles’ ear.

Stiles gulped, “No. This would be the first time.”

“Good,” Derek whispered and his grip on Stiles’ waist and hand tightened. He was pretty sure the man wasn’t smiling. “Make sure you don’t come back.”

“You don’t want me here?” He whispered in response, trying to add a little hurt into his tone.

“You’re surrounded by the equivalent of the shit on the bottom of Gotham’s shoe. I don’t want them anywhere _near_ you,” Derek growled and pulled Stiles closer - if that was even possible -until Stiles’ face was crushed into the alpha’s shoulder. He smelt good, spicy and warm - like  _ home _ . It wasn’t difficult to let his eyes fall shut, to slowly allow his body to shut down as he collapsed into the cradle of Derek’s safe and gentle arms.

He was too far gone to register it, but somewhere in the back of his cloudy mind, he heard Derek’s soft voice whisper an apology. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is for the theme _superhero_ and things are gunna get sex-u-al (that's why it's rated E)... so stay tuned. 
> 
> I'll add tags for the second chapter once it's posted.
> 
> Come bitch with me on [tumblr](http://milkysterek.tumblr.com/).


	2. The Amusement Mile & The Docs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For #SterekBingo2017
> 
> Theme - Superhero

In the breaking dawn light of the Amusement Mile, Stiles Stilinski made his way on shaking legs through the boarded up barrier that stopped visitors from getting into the closed attractions. Gotham City’s east end was a long way from the dirt and grime filled streets that Stiles was used to sticking to, but right now he needed to get away - as far away as possible. 

It didn’t matter that he was away, that he had spent most of the night wandering the street, not even bothering to hide in the shadows; no one would miss him. Sure, he was active on the southern west side, busting crates of illegal guns and drugs that got shipped in through the docks, but it wasn’t his turf. He wasn’t good enough to have  _ turf _ yet. 

_ Ha. Yet,  _ He thought as he climbed up the shaky metal steps of one of the closed rides.  _ As if I’ll  _ ever _ be good enough. _

It has stormed again last night, like it did every night, but it had given way less than an hour ago and the unsure sunrise began to crack through the clouds, bathing the waterfront in hopeful, pale light. 

Stiles sat one of the bumpy metal steps and groaned as puddle water immediately soaked through his pants and underwear. Wet ass. How nice. “Fuck!” He yelled, his irritation bubbling up and out of his lips before he could even attempt to hold it back. He dropped his head into his cold hands and sighed. Everything was shit. 

Derek had called him for what could very likely have been the thousandth time yesterday and he had ignored it; he’d ignored every call from that bastard drug lord since the incident in the Iceberg Lounge where Stiles had made a complete fool of himself, as always. It was a full week ago now and Derek had called constantly, almost from the moment Stiles had scrambled out of Derek’s bed, passed his sleeping form on the sofa and stormed out into the midday sun. But then, very abruptly, Derek had  _ stopped _ calling and Stiles… well, Stiles wasn’t sure what to make of that.

He was still mad at Derek -  _ furious _ \- because who the fuck drugs their boyfriend? Okay, so, yeah -  _ maybe _ Stiles shouldn’t have been at the Iceberg Lounge in the first place and  _ maybe _ trying to go undercover to get info on his own boyfriend’s organization was a bit of a dick move and  _ sure _ , okay, entering a club full of people he had  _ put in jail _ was - realistically - very,  _ very _ dangerous… 

_ BUT WHO DRUGS THEIR BOYFRIEND? _

Stiles had a right to be mad, he had made that point to Erica on the phone many times over the last week but it didn’t seem to be getting through to her. That was probably since she was a fundamentally evil person and didn’t understand morals. It could also be because she was still a little miffed herself that Stiles had tricked her into thinking he was a normal member of the public instead of the secret vigilante guy her boss had been fucking for the past eight months. So, yeah, it could have been either of those. 

If Stiles was going to be honest with himself, which he wasn’t sure that he would be right now, it wasn’t really the whole drugging thing that had him avoiding Derek; it wasn’t like their relationship was the exact definition of the word healthy but it worked for them and Stiles was happy with it for the most part. No, the reason he was dodging Derek’s calls and wandering over to the other end of the city just to ensure they wouldn’t run into each other was because of how  _ easy _ it had been for Derek to spike his drink - how easy it was for Stiles to be tricked. Derek wasn’t malicious - not when it came to Stiles anyway - and Stiles knew exactly why he’d done it. 

_ To prove he could _ .

To show Stiles exactly how easy it would be for someone to drug him, to hurt him, to kill him. To show him how stupid he and his little attempt at vigilantism really was. It hurt and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t humiliated. He didn’t even know Derek had figured out his real identity. Whenever they fucked it was on rooftops and in alleyways and Stiles always,  _ always _ had his paint on. 

He was so stupid.

A stupid little kid trying to be something he wasn’t.

So stupid, in fact, that he didn’t notice Derek standing in front of him until the alpha growled and suddenly had Stiles’ full attention. 

“Is it so hard to answer your damn phone?”

Stiles jumped, his nerves tingling from the fright then shot his glare directly at Derek. Damn him for looking so good. He was dressed in one of his many suits, this time it was the dove grey one that Stiles liked because it made his eyes seem lighter if that was possible. Derek was as handsome as ever and it took a lot for Stiles to keep his anger churning in his stomach, threatening to boil to the surface. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“I came to find you, obviously. It’s hard to spy on you when you’re not in your normal hunting grounds. Poor Boyd’s been driving around all night, panicked, looking for you.” Derek said it as if that would be some hardship for Boyd as if getting away from the Hale Pack’s  _ business _ for a night wouldn’t be a blessing. 

He raised his eyebrows in shocked rage. It welled up inside him, hot and white and furious because if that wasn’t just the icing on the cake. Nothing could possibly piss him off more than that. “You’re spying on me now?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” - He was mistaken. Derek Hale’s unyielding arrogant ass attitude could piss him off more than that. It was like he was  _ begging _ for Stiles to break up with him - if they were even together. Stiles had never checked and now he wasn’t sure he was still planning to. 

“Fuck, Derek!” The rage finally boiled over and he flew to his feet, shoving his fingers into his hair and pulling as he yelled, “You’re such a dick and you don’t even know it!”

“Can you stop acting like a brat so we can go back to my place and get warm? It’s cold out here and I have better things to do that stand, freezing my balls off and getting my feelings hurt.”

“I don’t care about your feelings,” Stiles bit; even he knew that was a lie.

“Yes, I know. If you did you wouldn’t be risking your life every night and acting like a cheap, waterproof jacket and some face paint is going to save you. Do you think that stuff disguises you even a little? Maybe to some half brained moronic street thug but it wouldn’t take a minute for any real contenders to figure out who you are - and then what? You’re dead and your cop dad has to be the one to find y-”

Stiles wasn’t sure when his brain had told his fist to throw itself at Derek’s jaw but he was glad that it did. 

At least it shut him up. For the moment. 

“Did you just-?”

Stiles punched him again, this time square in the nose and he took a small sort of sadistic joy in the way that Derek’s head snapped back from the hit. The man blinked a few times, shaking out the daze of pain before glaring at Stiles so hard that even through all his rage he still felt a shot of fear rush up his spine.

Backing up the remaining steps that led to the ride, Stiles quickly turned to scramble away, hissing in pain when his boots skidded on the slippery corrugated metal and he tumbled to his hands and knees. He was quick to get back to his feet and made a run for it, gritting his teeth against the sharp ache of his twisted ankle. Derek had never given any hint that he would actually  _ hurt _ Stiles before but Stiles had also never hurt Derek until that moment. A punch in the face probably hadn’t sweetened Derek’s feelings for Stiles so the boy kept running, clambering through wet metal pillars and ducking under guard rails as he delved deeper and deeper into the Amusement Mile. 

Clanging and the rattling metal announced every move Derek made so Stiles was able to keep the lead. He didn’t dare look back for even a second, scared that his feet would fail him yet again and he would be sent plummeting over the side of the ramp he was sliding down, crashing towards the wooden deck below. He dashed to the side and leapt toward the funhouse. His landing was botched as most of his landings were and his bad ankle protested from where it was throbbing in his boot. 

It was dark inside the funhouse and looked more like one of those ghost trains than anything that could be described as fun. Plus, clowns didn’t really have a great reputation in Gotham. All in all, this ride probably wasn’t in the best taste. Stiles wasn’t picky though; right now he was too focused on escaping than anything else. 

Hesitant sunlight broke through the cracks in the near derelict ride. It looked like beams, shining in long, golden strips that lit up some of the dark corners, highlighting the clumps of dust and debris that floated through the stale air. Stiles didn't suspect this ride saw many of the Amusement Mile's patrons and thought that must be why the place must be in such decay. The floor beneath his unsure feat was lined with metal cylinders that rolled which each careful step he took and Stiles bit his lip, cursing every creaking, grinding slide of the metal that echoed out, bouncing off the thin walls. 

Running had been stupid in the first place. No - punching Derek in the face had been the stupid thing; running had been necessary. The more time that had passed, the more Stiles' mistake had started to sink in. The thing was, he really cared about Derek. Sure, they were both pretty fucked up but Stiles had never kidded himself into thinking they weren't. He liked Derek. He maybe even loved him and the more he ran the more distance he put between the two of them. Literally and figuratively. 

Stiles stopped moving and found to his surprise that at some point he'd entered the room of mirrors. He listened closely, closing his eyes to cut off any distractions but the only things to be heard in the whole of the fun house were Stiles' shaky breaths and the frantic beating of his own heart. 

 

It was midnight and the full moon bathed the lower west side of Gotham in an ethereal, silver light. There were sirens in the distance, as there always were, and the clouds overhead that threatened to cover up the moon above were thick and heavy with the promise of rain. A small smile formed on Stiles' closed lips; it might thunder tonight. 

He liked storms, liked the way they made him feel tiny and insignificant which might not sound too enjoyable to everyone but it was what Stiles needed. He needed to feel safe and warm and so, so small. Thunder did that for him. Thunder meant he could burrow into bedsheets and curl his knees up to his chest, smother his face into a pillow and just rest knowing nothing could hurt him, no one could get to him and he was perfectly, perfectly okay. 

That, however, was not something he could do if he continued to sit on this rooftop all night. 

He hadn't gotten any sleep since his literal fistfight with Derek earlier that morning and if his legs were shaky with exhaustion before they were practically jello now. Hanging around at great heights down the docks probably wasn't the safest route to take as he leapt from building to building and skipped and weaved around those huge industrial chimney pots that spewed pollutants into the air. 

Derek's warehouse wasn't far from the docks. He liked to be close so he could get first dibs on the shipments of drugs and other unsavoury things that passed through in the dead of night. Derek also liked to keep his place of business far away from his home in Old Gotham - don't shit where you eat and all that. 

That saying probably could have applied to Derek's relationship with Stiles, too. Stiles was trying his best not to think about that. 

Down on the street, few cars moved about, all with their headlights off. It didn't take a genius to know what was going on inside those cars; drug deals or something worse. If this were normal circumstances Stiles would have absolutely gone down there and kicked some ass - or tried his best too, let's be real - but right now wasn't a normal circumstance and he had somewhere to be and someone to yell at but also maybe make out with. 

He made his landing on top of Derek's warehouse without making too much noise. He didn't think he'd drawn attention to himself; Boyd was standing outside, Isaac by his side as they rested against the hood of Boyd's car, talking amongst themselves. Neither looked up or made any movement to tip Stiles off that they'd noticed him. He was in the clear.

Stiles had experience breaking into this particular building - and most buildings - so he knew for sure that the third high window on the south side of the building would be unlocked. Derek wasn't sure how to close it and since Stiles was the only one who ever seemed to want to slip through it, he hadn't bothered to look further into getting the thing locked. He hoped Derek hadn't had a change of heart and welded the damn thing shut. 

Luckily, the window was left untouched since the last time Stiles had shimmied through it and it didn't take much effort for him to have it creaking open again. He contorted his body, carefully angling himself through the thin space until only his head was still peeking outside. It took a little bit of searching, but soon enough his feet were finding the familiar dust covered ledge that stuck out a little way down the wall and he lowered himself onto it, keeping his fingers wrapped tight around the window just in case. With as much care as possible, he slowly turned to survey the inside of the warehouse. 

From this height he could easily spot Erica, her bright blonde curls falling to cover her face as she bent down, rifling through one of the crates of God knows what. Stiles didn't recognise the men that surrounded her, ready to act on her word but that didn't matter; he wasn't here for her. 

Quietly, Stiles pounced from the ledge and landed with light steps on the hand railing of the walkway bellow. He held both of his arms out for balance, praying to whoever was listening that he wouldn't slip and tumble to the ground below. That was a fall that would definitely kill him so he was hoping to avoid it. 

Instead of plummeting to certain death, Stiles climbed down onto the walkway and, as silently as he could, crept along the thin, corrugated metal towards the air vent on the other side. The structure rattled with every movement the boy made and he cringed, his undoing flashing before his eyes. 

By some miracle, he made it to the end of the walkway and removed the gate to the vent, replacing it once he had squeezed his body through the tiny gap. He had to wiggle backwards, heading feet first through the vents but it wasn't any trouble; he'd done this before and he knew they way to Derek's 'office' off by heart. 

He felt himself going down, almost sliding as the vent's path declined. The other side of the warehouse had floors, unlike the part that he had just come from which was basically one huge, crate-filled room with an extremely high ceiling. The side where Derek conducted business was a maze of rooms and corridors all that wound this way and that but Stiles moved on instinct and memory, shifting inch by inch on his hands and knees in the dusty darkness, headed towards Derek. 

It wasn't long until he found his way to Derek's office and without putting any real thought into it, he kicked his leg out hard, slamming the sole of his shoe into the grill and knocking it out into the room below. If Derek got a fright that was his own problem and Stiles grinned to himself as he wriggled his way out of the vent and down onto the ground, excited to see the surprised expression on Derek's face. He turned, signature smirk on his painted face to see...

" _O-oh_ ," Stiles whimpered, now face to face with - yes, one surprised Derek, or as surprised as Derek got (eyebrows) - and five - uh-huh, yeah, five - muscled out 'businessmen' who all looked like they wanted to kill him. 

Minus Derek, of course, who was still surprised. 

Shit. 

When it came to fighting, Stiles always liked to take the better thought out, intellectual approach. He knew of a lot of vigilantes that preferred to go on gut instinct and switch their brains off completely and while Stiles did trust his gut, he found spelling his situation out for himself a much better tactic. After all, the guys Stiles picked fights with were usually hardened criminals who were significantly bigger than him and Stiles hadn't exactly been doing this whole 'hero' thing for long. He didn't even have a proper costume yet; apparently a red waterproof and some face paint smudged across his eyes didn't count as 'proper'. 

Everything went tits up from there. One of them men charged at Stiles, a shiny blade clutched in his meaty hand and it was only by a hair that Stiles managed to leap back up, clinging to the vent with his fingertips and kicking his legs out. His feet connected with the man’s head and he stumbled back, stunned. 

Stiles dropped back down and ducked to the floor, dodging the swinging fist of another man. He made a first of his own and wrapped his free hand around it, then forced his elbow back into the second guy’s ribs. It connected well and the man groaned, dropping to his knees. 

The fight went on from there and Stiles thought he was faring pretty well. At one point the tallest of the men had managed to cut Stiles across his cheek and it stung pretty bad, making Stiles wince with every movement but that was the worst of his injuries if you didn’t count his bloodied knuckles. All in all, Stiles was feeling pretty good about himself - that was, of course, until he turned from where he had knocked the fourth man out cold to find himself face to face with the barrel of the fifth and last guy’s gun. 

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles breathed, his eyes fluttering closed and body jolting with an increase of adrenaline. It felt like his stomach had dropped all the way to his feet and his blood had turned to ice.

The gun went off, a bullet whipped through the air and Stiles… 

Opened his eyes. 

Man number five lay on the ground, face limp and broken on the carpet. The back of his bald head was coated in crimson with a huge, gaping hole in it that made Stiles’ stomach churn. He thought he was going to throw up.

Derek sighed and put his gun away. “It’s a shame,” He looked down at man number five and then shrugged. “I liked him.”

“You saved me,” Stiles said, staring blankly down at the corpse. 

Derek smirked, “I like you better.”

There was a heavy moment of silence where the pair simply stood, not knowing what to say to each other. Stiles wasn’t sure if they were even a pair anymore - if they had been at all. Derek looked good but there were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep and Stiles was pretty sure that if he looked in a mirror at that moment he’d see the same exact eye bags staring back at him. The uncomfortable quiet was broken by one of the men groaning and Derek pressed a button on his desk. It wasn’t long before Erica came sauntering in, looked down at the bodies of Derek’s business partners and back up at the two, smirking with blood red lips. Then they were alone.

“Derek-”

“I’m sorry.” Stiles snapped his head up and stared at Derek. The man was the picture of sincerity, his green eyes wide and pleading like he was terrified that everything he had was about to be ripped away from him. “Stiles, I’m _so_ sorry. I know what I did was wrong and you were right to be pissed but please don’t-”

If there was one thing that made Stiles feel uncomfortable, it was Derek’s begging. Derek Hale didn’t beg and even if it was a little flattering that he could be reduced to such a state by  _ Stiles _ of all people, the boy wasn’t going to stand around and listen to it. He plastered his lips to Derek’s, cutting him off mid-sentence and kissing him so hard that his teeth cut the inside of his mouth. It felt like it had been an eternity since they had last been together; Stiles had lost the phantom touches of Derek’s bruising hold that he always felt days after they fucked and he hated it. He needed to get those touches back. 

“Please,” Stiles panted, already working on unbuttoning the man’s suit. 

Derek was breathing heavily but his hands were still by his side, where they had hung for the duration of the kiss, despite his fingertips twitching to take what was  _ his _ . “Are you sure,” He asked in a wrecked voice. 

Stiles nodded and brought his hands up to gently stroke through Derek’s beard. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure, baby.”

At the sound of the pet name, Derek sank into Stiles just as fervently and passionately as the first time. 

 

Stiles lay on the rough carpet of Derek’s office, naked and covered in a salty mixture of sweat and cum. Derek was between his legs, leisurely working his fingers in and out of him, letting his boy ride through the last remaining spasms of pleasure. It was hard to know how many times he had cum but his body ached in a way that told him that when he eventually found the strength to stand, Derek’s seed would come dripping down his thighs. It was a good feeling. 

“You okay,” Derek asked once Stiles became too sensitive to continue. He crawled his way back up Stiles’ body and lay down beside him, pulling the boy in close. “You nearly passed out a couple of times.”

Stiles could hear the smirk in Derek’s voice and tweaked at his nipple for punishment but he knew Derek probably really was concerned like he always was whenever they had sex. “Yes, I’m okay.”

They lay like that for a while, content in listening to each other’s breathing and slowly coming down from their high together. It wasn’t until the sweat was finally cooling that Derek moved, taking Stiles’ bloody knuckles in his hands. He rubbed his fingers delicately over the tender wounds before reaching into his desk and pulling out some bandages. 

Carefully tending to Stiles’ knuckles, he sighed and looked up through his lashes, “I guess you can take care of yourself. I don’t like it, you going out there every night when you should be studying, fighting all sorts - but I guess you really can handle it and if this is really what you want to do, I’ll support you,” Derek paused, a sly smirk coming to his lips, “And if anything ever goes wrong, you can always count on me to be around the corner with a gun.”

Stiles resisted the urge to blush, watching the bandages intently as the wrapped around and around his damaged hands. “You sound like my dad,” He snorted, “‘ _ When you should be studying _ ’.”

Derek caught Stiles’ eye. “Kid, I love you, but don’t push it.”

Stiles just grinned back and returned to watching the bandages. 

 

~~ (He told Derek he loved him too not long after, he just wanted him to squirm for a few minutes, don’t worry) ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In an ideal world we wouldn't drug people and have it all merrily wrapped up with some orgasms at the end but this is fiction and god dammit I can't be bothered to write deeply. Also, I wrote the first part of this chapter while high as shit on my medication and when I woke up in the morning the whole things was a bLOOD BATH. I tried to salvage what I could but if you're like 'huh, this is a little extra than normal' HIGH ME LIKES TO BE EXTRA. God bless you, antipsychotics. 
> 
> Come to my house and punch me in the throat via [tumblr](http://milkysterek.tumblr.com/)!!


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